Prague Winter: A Personal Story of Remembrance and War, 1937-1948
Madeleine
Albright
Category: Nonfiction:
Memoir: History; Czechoslovakia; WWII
Synopsis: Secretary
of State under President Clinton, Albright recounts the events and aftermath of
World War II in her homeland of Czechoslovakia.
Date finished: 2 September 2013
Rating: ****
Comments:
Two things.
First, my definition of “personal history” differs widely
from Secretary Albright’s. I knew I was in for a different reading experience
when I realized Albright was much too young during World War II to have much of
any remembrance of it. So, out of necessity, this book relies on historical
accounts and her father’s personal papers to piece together not only the war
but her family’s life before, during, and after it. But do not confuse this
book, as I did, to be a memoir. It most decidedly is not.
Second, do not, as I did, expect to see any American history
in this book. This is a history of Czechoslovakia, its entry into WWII, and the
aftermath of the war. When recounting the events of the war, Albright’s scope
extends to other countries in Europe as well as Russia, but America is
mentioned more in passing than anything. I believe the words “Pearl Harbor”
were mentioned, but only once as I remember. Her state allegiance here is not
to the country she served as Secretary of State, it is to her homeland. This
made me (can you tell?) a little defensive. But more defensive out of boredom
(forgive me, Czechs) for learning about ancient Bohemia than a perceived lack
of statehood impropriety on Albright’s part.
Once I got over my disillusionment of expectation—not to
mention the early chapters of Czech history, which almost made me quit reading—I
learned to enjoy the book. It is quite academic, and at times it read like a
textbook. More than occasionally, though, the author used a word like “absurd”
or “ill-fated” in an explanation of a leader’s actions or beliefs. This took it
out of the realm of unbiased textbook (as if they exist…) and made it ever-so-slightly
more personal. This rendered it infinitely more readable.
What I was most interested in, and what made me buy the book
after dithering over it for a year or so, was the fact that Albright didn’t
know her family were Jews until she was in the process of becoming Secretary of
State. She spends the first six decades of her life believing she’s a Catholic,
not knowing that 20 of her relatives perished in Nazi concentration camps. Her parents
take this knowledge to their grave. Although she dealt with this revelation in this
book, she didn’t speak of it in depth at all. She postured some guesses as to
her parents’ reasons for “converting” though since they were secular Jews, and
since they converted before the news of the death camps had spread throughout
Europe, this part of the story never came to much. Going in, I thought it was
to be the heart of the book. (I haven’t read her autobiography Madame Secretary,
and perhaps this part of her history is discussed in more depth there. In fact,
I believe she may have made reference to that in her introduction of this
book.)
I enjoyed the refresher of WWII history, even if I didn’t
retain much of it. It brought me back to my Western Civilization class in
college. What I came away from the book with was not only a sadness over what
man is capable of—every single life in Europe was changed by the action of one
man—but also what nationalism means, and what it should mean. America seems to
be at low ebb when it comes to national pride. Have we reached a point in
American history (and perhaps it’s this way with other countries now, I don’t
know) where our cynicism outweighs our love of country? Or have we come to a
point in American history (and again, perhaps world history) where patriotism
must fall to more important concerns? I can’t decide. On the one hand, nothing
swells my heart like seeing my neighbors flying the flag or seeing a man’s hand
over his heart at the national anthem. On the other hand, as I read the history
of Czechoslovakia and what she’s gone through for democracy (at least twice), I
realize every country on earth has a history rife with triumph and
bloodshed—often triumph because of
bloodshed. Perhaps those two hands aren’t so far apart? It’s food for thought
at any rate.
All in all, I’m glad I stuck with the book. And I’m glad my
expectations could fall away to an open mind, because I really did enjoy this
learning experience.
Would you recommend
this to a friend?
Yes, with caveats.
